


Wooden Floors and Paper Cups

by amelioratedays



Category: Akanishi Jin - Fandom, Johnny's Entertainment, Yamashita Tomohisa - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelioratedays/pseuds/amelioratedays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tomohisa is a backup dancer, and Jin is a barista. A small senseless story of the two; as Tomohisa is convinced that coffee somehow calms the mind while Jin finds himself with an drummer in his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

Being a backup dancer had its downsides. First of all, you worked irregular hours and there were no payments for the countless hours you end up practicing and throwing away your social life. Second were the ridiculous outfits they stuff you into for their “creative and artistic” performances. But really, Tomohisa seriously didn’t want to be standing on stage clad in sequined suits nor costumes pieced together from recycled scraps of fabric. Not even counting the fact that your crew was full of egoistic individuals that hated on people regularly or the fact that some of the artists you had to work with weren’t much better, being a backup dancer already had a mile-long list of things to put anyone off. But, Tomohisa liked dancing and words never really took that much of a toll on him anyways. So he put on with it and two years later he finds himself with a dance crew and a long enough list of performances that he has participated in to be considered a professional backup dancer.  
  
His crew might not have been made of the friendliest bunch of people but they were still his crew and together they managed to nab a spot at Japan’s top known dance groups. But underneath the glory and all, being a backup dancer still sucked in many ways. People weren’t the least bit friendly as Tomohisa stumbled backwards, eyes glancing over at his senior who had purposely pushed him out of the way. Everyone here was your rival and those not good enough were eliminated. It was a practical world but Tomohisa enjoyed it, being able to stand on stage and just contributing everything he has towards the performance.  
  
His family wasn’t as supportive though, well, they weren’t supportive at all. His father had probably yelled at him the most when he found out that he had decidedly joined the school’s dance club instead of studying. Being the only male in the family only added to the overly high expectations he was given. But Tomohisa wasn’t particularly good or bad either, with schoolwork and he really had no plans of working in an office all day with stacks and stacks of paperwork. It all sounded too restricting to him and the stories from his father’s friends didn’t serve as good examples.  
  
Dancing made Tomohisa happy, the way that he managed to move his body freely as an individual and yet be perfectly in harmony with his group. It made him feel important, part of a whole and before long he decides that maybe he might take the offer that the instructor gave him. He remembers the whole frenzy that took place during the last few months of high school, remembers all the time spent for extra practices and countless nights spent at filling out the form he was given. Then, finally, he remembers standing in front of the judges as he took a deep breath and tensed his body, music blaring and sneakers squeaking upon the wooden dance floor. The anxiety and adrenaline when he realized that he was in for the job; he remembers everything.  
  
  


 

  
The soles of the sneakers squeaked against the floor as the twenty eight persons in the room all turned in unison, swiftly changing directions. The whole number continued as everyone attempted to stay completely in synch yet stand out among everyone else. They were picking members today, to work with an upcoming artist. The company was putting every inch of hope onto this singer and they needed everything to make sure that the debut performance would be spectacular. Tomohisa had overheard some of the staff talking and he really wondered if the said pretty boy was really anything that worth praising of.  
  
The loud beats of the music vibrating off glass mirrors and cement ceilings, an occasional chirp or two from the birds that sat on the telephone lines outside; peeking in to watch the show that the humans put on. The judges sat alongside the front of the room; the same look of silence and chatter from them as the birds; four little birds, four stoic judges.  
  
The music faded to an end and they all stood still while their boss nodded and filed out the room with the rest of the staff to their decision meeting. He’s sure that little stumble back there would cost him a deduction of a few points and he mentally curses at the back of his senior’s head, hoping the guy had made enough mistakes to be fired; either that or the judges were all zoilists. But everyone here was skilled and he was sure that no one made more than one or two mistakes in choreography, and thus the entire assessment was based off feel and vibe. Physical build and height that would compliment the singer would come into count too; no one too tall or too short, no one too scrawny or too buff. It was a harsh test; but he still hopes that whoever had an eye on that senior was a zoilist.  
  
Chatter filled the dance studio as the dancers grouped together into their individual cliques. Tomohisa glanced warily at the people around him before walking out of the room to the lockers. He wondered vaguely when the whole ordeal about being left out began, but he deems it a pathetic thing to ponder over and leaves it at that. What’s done is done, and there’s really no need to cry over spilled milk; just clean it up and pour yourself another glass of milk. Or even a cup of tea if you ran out of milk. A cup of coffee would be good too, and with this thought Tomohisa slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out the door, he slightly remembers a coffee shop three blocks from his stop on the train.  
  
  


  
  
Quiet chatter filled the small café as the clinking of porcelain cups and whirring of the machines filled in the silent intervals. There was a slight increase of customers today and it was finally clearing down to the normal amount of people. A young man slumped down onto the counter, frowning at the barista. Tsubasa cocked his eyebrow and asked, “What’s wrong?” Jin narrowed his eyes and deepened his frown.,“I hate you”. The older man chuckled before asking a short “Why?” while handing the customer her order of an espresso. “Because I’m stuck here playing waiter to ungrateful people when I’m supposedly training under you to be a barista!?” Jin said, a tone of annoyance filling his words. He continued, “I mean how does being a waiter contribute to my skills of making coffee?” Jin practically shouted as Tsubasa motioned for him to calm down. The senior barista laughed and just replied casually. “It sucks being an intern, doesn’t it?” Jin glared at the older man before being shooed off with a platter of various coffees. “Now shut up and go serve the customers, it helps with public relations.”  
  
The store sat on a welcomed on the corner of the street, a cozy brick house with seemingly muted colors. It might have been the fact that almost everything was faded by the constant sunshine that penetrated the large windows. The entire décor gave off a western feel, but nothing cute like the maid cafes or fancy like the French restaurants. The whole café was relaxed and it invited people to just come in sit back and drink some coffee before stepping back into their hectic lives. Not to mention that it smelled nice, the soft yet strong fragrance of roasted coffee filling every crack and crevice in the room. This was one of the reasons why Jin decided to work here, nothing too formal yet nothing too informal; it was right there in between, a comfortable fit between business and friendship.  
  
The ring of the bell disturbed his train of the thoughts as the door to the shop opened; he welcomed the customer on the way as he continued to on the far end of the room, tray of hot drinks at hand. As he settled the orders on to the customer’s table, he vaguely heard the sound of Kusano taking the orders of other customers. The boy’s distinct voice clinging to the back of his mind and he shook his head in an attempt to clear his head. But the attempt was futile and a voice, the customer’s this time, entered his brain. He listened intently at the male’s soft and semi-nasally voice. An order of coffee—black, he frowned, puzzled at the order. Not many people his age wanted to drink black coffee, usually ordering a much sweeter or iced drink. But his eyes widened, as if having remembered something and Jin just smiles fondly.  
  
“AKANISHI!” Jin snapped out of his thoughts and rushed to the counter, another order ready to be served. He swore the only reason as to why that Tsubasa put him through this was either because he liked toying with him. He cursed under his breath as he nearly tripped over a chair leg in his walk way, kicking at it slightly as Kusano chuckled. He turned back with a glare, meeting the slightly amused smile on the customer’s face and he felt a warm feeling creep up his face. Jin lowered his head and laughed nervously, tripping over an array of chairs as he attempted to hide behind the counter. Tsubasa laughed heartily until Jin proceeded to step on his foot. He yelled in pain and splashed coffee on his apron, but Jin thinks he deserves it.  
  
The bell rang aloud as the door closed and the last of the customer’s stepped out of the now empty store. Jin sighed and sprawled himself on the seat, a groan resounding from his throat as he remembered his earlier mishap. He sat back and buried his face into his palms, face tinted red from embarrassment. He’s suddenly convinced that all chairs in the café should be affixed to the floor in a nice orderly fashion. Kusano laughs at his suggestion and Reo only laughs at him over the phone, Ryo laughs louder in real life. He thinks that he should hang around nicer people.  
  
  


 

  
The bittersweet remnant of the coffee lingered on his tongue, and Tomohisa found himself unconsciously licking his lips for hints of the caffeinated beverage. He remembered the waiter earlier and smiled, he wasn’t the only one that stumbled over today. The café was nice too, not too expensive and surprisingly calming, nothing like the invisible tension that filled the practice room. It was a place that he could just sit in and completely left himself relax. He thinks the way the sun hits through the windows must have a calming effect, Shige thinks he’s been working too hard at work. Tomohisa tells Shige that he should go to the café too, instead of spending all the time in the photography studio. He heard that the chemicals they use kills brain cells, but Shige has too many brain cells anyways. Toma sighs and refuses to go into a conversation of how sun-bleached furniture and wide windows makes a person want to relax. Tomohisa sighs and refuses to go to their next appointment.  
  
His phone landed on the bed with a muted thud, followed by a louder thump as he fell back onto the soft mattress, burying himself into the softness of the blanket. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, back down the narrow road, hands gliding slightly on the rough brick wall, hard enough to feel the sharp points stinging his skin yet soft enough so that no harm is inflicted. It was a cold day, barely a hint of warmness from the sun as it hid shyly from behind the clouds. What a suitable day. The thought lingered in his mind; the medicine makes him concentrate but it makes him concentrate on too much and doesn’t move on. The thought still stayed as he walked up the staircase, one step at a time before holding out his arms to push against the heavy metal doorframe. Back to the moment where he walks out to the familiar setting, making his way to the far end before seating himself on the edge of the rooftop, feet dangling freely above the city’s buildings. He leans dangerously forward, arms straightening to bring him further and Tomohisa smiles, eyes closed. He wonders if the world can hear hearts break, the crystal rainfall of glass shards falling.  
  
And when he finally let go, he finds himself falling back—quite hard actually, as his back came in contact with the stone floor of the roof. He opened his eyes and found himself staring back at a n unfamiliar. Tomohisa blinked, as the other man pulled away, holding up a container in his hand. “Coffee?” He chuckled nervously and continued, “I made too much, so take it as a xenium.” All said in a tone surprisingly normal, as if they had been friends forever and Tomohisa had not just wanted to jump off a fourteen story apartment building. And for a second, Tomohisa thinks that he sees that carefree smile falter but the stranger merely smiles again, brighter this time, and motions for him to sit on the empty chair next to him.  
  
They don’t talk, simply sitting there basking in the silence, occasionally sipping on their cup of coffee. Tomohisa thinks it’s a fond memory, a perplexed one too as he snaps out of his thoughts and picks up his clothes for a shower. He wonders what exactly went through his mind that day, why he decided to not jump—and also why he possibly decided to jump at all— but instead opt for coffee with a complete stranger. Maybe coffee really helps a person relax, a drug that lets you forget all the sorrows and simply live in the moment. He still remembers though, the sight of the other’s eyes, a deep brown, and if he concentrates hard enough, he can still faintly smell the aroma of that moment, a cup of black coffee mixing with the twang of rain in the afternoon sky. Tomohisa thinks he’s grown too fond of the caffeine filled beverage. Toma would probably reprimand him though, yelling at him at how coffee can’t be taken with medicine and make everything worse. But then he would yell back, saying how Toma is so utterly wrong and that a cup of coffee saved his life in all the ways that the medicine he took that day didn’t.  
  
  


 

  
The metal gate of the café closed with a clang and Tsubasa bid Jin farewell, another day of hard work over. Jin laughed and slung his bag over his shoulders, making his way to his apartment building. Twenty minutes later and he finds himself walking from his apartment lobby to the staircase, he decides that taking the stairs was a good exercise. Ten flights of walking though and Jin questions if he should have taken the elevator after all. He lingers around that thought for a moment but decides against it or Kusano would call him fat again. He was lazy but he wasn’t fat, Kusano was just lanky. Jin was in no way ventripotent.  
  
The door of the roof opened, reluctantly, as the un-oiled hinges creaked and the bottom part of the door scraped against the floor. He pulled up a chair and rested himself in it, face looking towards the sky. Why someone comes here to ponder upon the world below is beyond him. Why look at the corrupted city below while you can look at the beautiful sky above. The city is forever the same, yet the sky is forever changing. He wonders if the other understood by now, how dazzling the sky is. How calming and wonderful it can be. He smiles and looks up at the deep blue sky, stars ever so coruscant. Maybe tomorrow Tsubasa will let him make coffee instead.  
  
Jin thinks he’s too optimistic, but then everyone else is too realistic.


	2. Chapter 2

Being a barista had its downsides. First of all, you have to be paying attention every single moment so you don’t mess up an order; setting a timer for this, and another timer for that. Second of all, every order had to be made from scratch, since the baskets in the machine need to be kept hot and preloading coffee only scorches it and that can’t be used at all. So in the end, every order is freshly grounded and compacted. Third, everyone likes their coffee a little different, so it’s almost always a bit more milk for this customer, less espresso for him, and let’s bump the temperature up to 68○ Celsius for her. There’s also the fact that baristas are often looked down upon and he has a somewhat sadistic boss that likes to make him play waiter. But, it paid well and Jin likes to think that he’s fallen completely in love with coffee so he puts up with Tsubasa’s orders.  
His co-workers might not be the brightest nor friendliest bunch but they were almost family. Tsubasa was mean, but he’s always been there, listening whenever Reio or he had a problem. He was kind when he wanted to be, or maybe he’s been kind all the time. Jin isn’t quite so sure of it. Kusano too, he was one of the nicest kids that Jin’s probably ever met, a bit cheeky and a pain sometimes, but he’s family too. Just like how Reio is family, he won’t say it much, but Jin thinks he loves them a lot.  
  
But one thing he knows for sure is that he won’t regret becoming a barista. To the point where he can say that he’s fallen in love with his work, or maybe even on borderline obsession with coffee; that’s where he is right now. He’s sure that the fact that he has one whole display shelf dedicated to different types of coffee show just how much he likes his occupation. It’s grown to a comfortable setting as he wakes up early in the morning to the smell of freshly grounded coffee and consistent whirring of the espresso machine. Sitting down and relaxing with a cup of the addictive and slightly acidic drink in hand to start off another wonderful morning.  
  
The café door opened, as a group of customers came in, filing in while chatter and laughter filled the room, their voices blending with the soft music in the background. Kusano welcomed them in before seating them in an empty table. Jin thanked him before picking up his bag and walking out the front door; he had forgotten to mail his bills today and Kusano was nice enough to let him sneak back home to get it. He hurried down the street, the slight thumping of his footsteps echoing in his mind. The view of the apartment building came into view as he crossed the road, cars barely stopping, light barely changing. He really should have more patience but what good is patience when you have bills to mail and coffee to make.  
  
The elevator took forever to reach the lobby, and Jin really wondered if he should run up the stairs again, but the elevator came mid-decision and he decided against it. The metal doors slid open as his reflection slowly shifted into another’s face. A surprisingly familiar face as Jin suddenly realized the sound of his heartbeat was abnormally loud, like the beating of a bass drum hitting every sixteenth note. The thought of bills, mails, and postal stamps is suddenly replaced by rainy days, grey clouds and black coffee. And all Jin can think at that point is that he’s being entirely too strange with the thoughts of a teenage girl invading his mind.  
  
Tomohisa’s stumbled back in shock as he found himself staring into the same brown eyes that he saw four months ago. The same chocolate brown orbs that stared back at him, all huge and doe-like and Tomohisa doesn’t even stop for a second to contemplate leaving the elevator, all thoughts suddenly focused on the sudden invasion of the other man’s presence. Or rather, his scent. He smelled like freshly brewed coffee, warm sunlight, and lazy winter afternoons. Tomohisa decides to stay; steel doors closing and plastic buttons pressed.  
  
Tomohisa was still there when Jin came out of his apartment, papers and envelopes in hand. Jin stepped back in slight shock as he found the other standing near the elevator, propped up against the wall as he waited. And all Jin could hear again was the overwhelming thump of his irregularly fast heartbeat, which he quite dearly hopes is not a sign of tachycardia, or any other disease for the matter. When Tomohisa finally noticed Jin, he stood upright and approached him with a smile that Jin thinks should be classified as a lethal weapon. “I wanted to wait for you.” In fact, Jin thinks his voice should be illegal too.  
  
His name was Tomohisa, Yamashita Tomohisa. It sounded nice, the way is rolled off his tongue like raindrops on a glass window; smooth and pure. Smooth, like the way fresh cream was poured into steaming espresso. Nothing loud, dynamic, and irregular like “Akanishi Jin”. Jin thinks his name sounds like the frequent drumming of heartbeats; loud and incessantly pounding. The drummer in his heart must have had too much sugar these days, stepping on the bass pedal a bit too much for his liking.  
  
The sun shone brightly that day, through glass windows and onto faded red furniture as they walked side by side into a cozy brick house on the corner of the street; an old but proud sign hung above the door. “Imai Café” And together they were, walking down the street, hands almost touching and shoulders connected.  
  
  


 

  
Tomohisa was all stars and moonlight, completely shining in the dark and Jin swore, if you looked closely, he’d shine in the day too. Radiating a pale white light that humans don’t possess, but that was a given, since the more Jin saw the other, the less human the man seemed. His not-real heart pumping not-real blood throughout that not-real body. Tomohisa was like a dream and Jin felt like the dreamer, a peasant’s fantasy. One composed of matter while the other simply dispersed and formed from thin particles of the mind. All electrical impulses sent through dendrites and axons, there but not there at all.  
  
Jin finds him magical, not pseudo-magical like sparkling Edward Cullen and flying unicorns, but magical like the creation of life, and shooting stars. Something non-tangible, unexplainable yet existent and very well beautiful; like the beating of hearts, flowing of blood, rhythms of pulses and signs of life.  
  
  


  
  
Tomohisa sees him way more than what was considered normal by humans, and when he showed up late to his appointment for the umpteenth time—another cup of coffee in hand—Toma nearly tried to rip his soul out; loud voice and animate hands in the air.  
  
“Tomohisa, I swear, you talk about coffee one more time and I will end up prescribing you toxin.”  
  
“But as a friend, shouldn’t you at least listen to what I want to say?!” Star-like eyes and moonlight skin, retaliating frantically as the clock ticked silently in the background.  
  
Toma sighed, creases forming at the center of his forehead, hills and valleys, valleys and hills.  
“Listen, Tomo-chan. You’re my friend and I don’t bore you everyday about brain cells and mental illnesses.”  
  
“Then listen as my psychiatrist then, you’re paid to do so anyways.”  
  
Toma’s forehead crinkles further; mountains and rivers, rivers and mountains.  
  
He tells Jin later; voice crystal clear over 21st century technology as he tells about the terrains and deserts on Toma’s face. Jin laughs and tells him to listen to Toma more, but Tomohisa isn’t paying attention; he’s listening to the melody of Jin’s voice. Jin would make a nice singer, he’d sing about coffee, dark skies, hills and valleys, mountains and rivers. He’d sing about his brother too, since Jin liked talking about his brother and pasta. Tomohisa bets he’d make a single that would beat all the rookies and top the oricon chart. Tomohisa likes that thought.  
  
“Jin?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“You should become a singer.”  
  
“Wait, wha—t!?” A thud accompanied by muted profanity on the other line.  
  
“I said; you should become a singer.” He states, all the while staring off at his ceiling.  
  
“I know, I heard that part. But why?, I like being a barista.” Jin sighs and crinkles his forehead, with more rivers and valleys than Toma ever had.  
  
“You have a nice voice. I like it.” Tomohisa responds nonchalantly, as if nothing was wrong at all and Jin’s heartbeat wasn’t loud enough to be heard through the new gadgets of the modern century. But at least they weren’t face to face, last time he talked to Tomohisa through the phone, Reio looked up from his book and proclaimed in a face that wasn’t entirely joking; “Dude, I can literally see your high school girl heart beating out of your chest.” Jin promptly flailed and stuck to thick hoodies after that.  
  
Tomohisa doesn’t mind though, because Jin’s all soft and cuddly, like pandas, cotton candy and soft clouds. Nothing like the hard wooden floor of the studio; nothing like it at all. And Jin says he understands, as he comes to visit one day. Tomohisa sees him waiting in the back after coming back from the office—he seems to have been chosen for the project with the new pretty boy singer—but Tomohisa has more things to be happy about than pubescent singers. There are stares and whispers, and the squeaking of expensive sneakers on wooden floor panels at the intrusion of the man who sat in the background clad in apparel that claimed him American and stoic. Tomohisa ignores them and sends a smile through the mirror while Jin pretends that his face just didn’t flush a million shades of scarlet.  
  
It seems easier to practice today though, less distractions and only one thing that lingered in his sight and mind as he continues on with practice. The clock ticks in the background and mirrors shining bright with blurs of colored t-shirts and dyed hair. Coffee’s gone cold and feet gone numb.  
  
Tomohisa shines brightly, Jin notices this as the routine continues into the night. Everyone else being mere clouds around the North Star; not a ray of light being stolen. So he sits, thermos in hand, eyes wide at the boy that captured his attention so easily, and the what-should-now-be-familiar-drummer in his heart starts again. Bass comping to the dance music of the group, in a paradoxical and yet somewhat fitting melody. He thinks this time, Tomohisa hears it; the loud rhythmic beating as their eyes meet and lips upturn.  
  
  


  
  
Practice ends and the two sit in the middle of the dance studio, cup of still-somewhat warm coffee in hand. The drummer continues and they sit side by side without intruders. Words were overrated, and unneeded as the boy with the drummer sat next to the boy with moonlight skin. Together they sipped on the cups of black coffee, pure and simple without the interference of sugar and cream. Tomohisa thinks it’s the second best thing he’s ever encountered, with the first being right next to him.  
  
And together they sat, silent dialogue as their skin grazed against each others. The only other things in contact being the hard surface of the wood floor panels and the lukewarm surface of the paper cups. And with wooden floors and paper cups, coffee hinted lips met coffee hinted lips.  
  
  


//The End//


End file.
